Dirty Laundry
by Calico Yorki
Summary: A collection of stories set in this odd world of sinful angels, orderly demons, and everything in-between. Rated M for future chapters, I'm not even going to attempt to assign a small number of genres.


You know those times when you don't remember what happened, but you know you loved every minute of it? When you wake up the morning after a party, and it's all one big blur of colors and lights and sounds and sensations? It's a big soup of melty memories, but you know that whatever happened, it was fun, and you felt alive.

Unfortunately, isn't it always that right after these memories greet you in the morning, your drinking leaves you a memento? Yes, the ultimate penance for too much drinking: the hangover. Panty and Stocking both lay paralyzed in the living room by one such hangover - Panty with her signature underwear hanging off of her ankle, Stocking surrounded by little bottles of some sweet-flavored liquor that had gotten her righteously fucked up.

Stocking didn't always drink, but when she did, she preferred something candy sweet that got her wicked plastered. Panty just liked to get fucked up, and then get fucked. Both had fulfilled these very reasonable desires for a party last night, a good time was had by all, and Garterbelt brought it all to a close by firing a gunshot into the ceiling that sent the guests running for their lives. Panty and Stocking were both passed out drunk by this stage in the night, and even the sound of a firearm going off wasn't enough to wake them up.

As Panty opened her eyes, she instantly regretted that mistake. Stars exploded across her field of vision, and her head felt like what a washing machine probably felt like when you tossed a brick inside of it and it tore itself to pieces. What I mean to say is, it sucked balls, as far as even most hangovers went. "Oh fuck me," Panty groaned, "what did I drink? Turpentine?" She looked over at a glass bottle with a sticky note on it. Somehow, she was able to see most of the name through the sparks shooting through her view. "Oh God, Doctor McGillicutty, that's even worse." Snatching the bottle up, she placed the bottom against her forehead. It was barely cooler than room temperature, but it felt like Heavenly icy relief at this moment. She was aware of her panties hanging on her leg. She didn't care.

Soon after, Stocking woke to much the same surprise, and growled in pain. She wanted to get up, but her arms and legs were determined to stay eaglespread. She expected her ass to be in serious pain right now, but this was not so. As if she didn't have enough agony skullfucking her without that other unpleasant kind of memento. She finally managed to get out a lame, "Panty, you and I got...Blitzed. It isn't 'white girl drunk' anymore. We got hammered, jugged, smashed, blitzed, and - uuuugh! - shitfaced." Panty incoherently slurred in agreement.

Now, the reason they had partied hard and gotten drunk off their asses was that they had saved the world. That was a particularly good reason to have a huge-ass party. However, this huge-ass party had left them with huge-ass hangovers. Panty had a dry, dry mouth, and was busy thanking God that she had somehow avoided vomiting. That was when she could feel her throat seizing up. She clamored up, pitched over the back of the couch, and had a long, loud spew onto the floor. Stocking groaned. "Charming," she jabbed weakly. Panty had slipped half into unconsciousness, hanging over the back of the couch.

It was then that Garterbelt walked in, saw the puke puddle, spun on his heel, and walked back out. He came back out with a mop, scrubbed the mess up, then opened a window and pitched the mop out. Panty's vomit had been known to release fumes of raw alcohol, and a stray spark could blow the roof off of the motherfucking house. Garterbelt gently lifted Panty up and placed her back on the couch. Panty's eyes slid in and out of focus, as she groaned, "You're not yellingghh...You're not the real - augh. - Garter...Hhhhh..." She started to nod off again, sinking into the couch.

Garterbelt looked over the two sisters, with a sigh. "Well, you girls somehow managed to save the world, and you deserve the right to have a party, get fall-down motherfucking drunk, and regret it the next morning." He easily lifted Stocking up, and set her down on the other end of the couch. "Y'all just sleep dat shit off. We'll talk about what comes next when you ain't seein' stars." He made sure the two were alright how they were, and went to leave.

Panty grunted, making him stop. "Th, thanksshh, Garterbelt. You're - hic. - you're cool, sometimes." With a weak yawn, she completely passed out again. Stocking was already passed out, drooling. Garterbelt smiled, and left the room.

He could wait for tomorrow to tell them that their restarted journey would entail collecting twice the original sum of cash.


End file.
